


Wardens and Woes - A Laerke Cousland drabble collection

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, King Alistair, Minor Alistair/Female Warden, Queen Cousland (Dragon Age), Warden Queen (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: A series of short stories, prompt fills and drabbles about the Hero of Ferelden turned Queen, Laerke Cousland.





	1. For the Cure

**Prompt:** Reflections in glass, darting shadows, candlelight, a door closing.

[Goodbyes said before leaving to find the cure to the taint/the calling]  
  


The palace was blanketed in a soft hush, most of the inhabitants peacefully slumbering in the late hour. Few bodies still stirred; ever vigilant soldiers patrolling the halls dutifully, maids that never slept spending the night gossiping away, even a few cats that had made their home in the castle - they always prowled at night and hid during the day to avoid people.

Candlelight cast the King's quarters - their quarters - in a somber golden glow. The flame flickered gently and cast long, darting shadows across the walls.

Laerke sighed resolutely as she continued to adjust her armor, the movements familiar and practiced. The deliberately muffled sound of a door closing carefully and quietly didn't draw her gaze. Nor did the weighty, slow footsteps or reflections glinting in the glass goblets on the table just near. Only the sensation of arms snaking around her waist, pinning her to a solid, warm body pulled her from the fog of thought. The scent of leather filled her nose immediately and momentarily soothed the creeping dread that had slowed her movements, driving her to stall as long as feasible.

She pressed her back into him and let her head rock back comfortably into the crook of his neck. When he buried his nose into her neatly coiffed blonde braid, a whimpered groan escaped past her lips.

“I have to do this Ali. It's not just for me. It's for all of us.”

He clutched tighter - just for a moment - but she pried herself free if for no other reason than to look at him. At his once boyish face now aged by time and stress with hazel eyes that expressed all the fear and anxiety she felt. He smiled even so, gentle but sad. “I know. Maker do I know.”

Both of his hands gripped her shoulders and she mirrored the smile. Laerke Cousland - Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens and beloved Queen - stood before her king proudly dressed in her Warden blues once again.

“I just wish I could be there,  _ down there _ , with you.” It was so like him to fret, even if they had both literally stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale. “Sending you off alone is just-”  

Gingerly she pulled his hands away, making sure to kiss each knuckle before clasping her own around his between them. “I won’t be alone. Jasper will be with me. And Zevran too. He promised to look after me, remember?”

Alistair’s pursed his lips dubiously, his hazel eyes narrowing skeptically. “Mmm yesss, I remember.”

She laughed, a surprisingly musical sound despite the dour mood hanging over the both of them. “Oh don’t be like that.” Laerke rocked forward on her toes to reach her husband’s cheek with her lips but Alistair was not satisfied. He supported her back with his forearm, slipping it around her again. They dipped, or rather, she was dipped in a sweeping romantic gesture followed by a firm full-lipped kiss. Her arms threw themselves around his neck and she pushed herself into his chest as they righted themselves.    
  
“Don’t fret, my heart. I won’t leave you too long. Someone has to keep you out of trouble after all.”

“Hah! I suppose that is true. You might want to leave through the back then, or you’ll end up with Teagan on his knees pleading for you to stay.”

She snorted and her mouth turned up in a much more light hearted smile, her blue eyes steely and confident once more. “I’ll take that under advisement then my King.” Laerke prodded an index finger into his chest. “Behave yourself. There had best be a castle when I return, or else.”

Alistair’s face lit up with a cheeky delight. “I love it when you get all  _ Queenly _  on me.”

After an agonizing minute, she pulled away until just the tips of their fingers touched. “I’ll be back before you know it. Until then.” It took tremendous willpower to turn around and walk away without stopping herself but it was the potential of what awaited her that kept her legs moving through the castle, every step bringing her that much closer to the potentially very real prize - to their freedom.  _ To the cure. _


	2. Regret Makes Us Human

**Prompt:** 100 Word Drabble - “liquor on the lips; heart shattered in pieces; sugar on the tongue”

  
[After killing Arl Howe]  
  
  
Dead.

He was dead and they were still gone. It fixed nothing. The agonizing emptiness had buried itself into her heart, still shattered in numerous pieces. Pieces she wasn't sure would ever fit perfectly together anymore.

The flask rose unbidden and she took a sip. Liquor lingered on her lips and burned her throat as it went down. She choked back a heavy sob.

Hatred drove her actions. Regret sent her spiraling.

Kind words were sugar on his tongue, meant to be soothing, to make it feel better. Her grief wouldn't be easily stolen with a kindly kiss, but it was a small comfort to know Alistair was there.


	3. Beginning of the End or End of the Beginning?

**Prompt:** distant memories that are crystal clear. An eternity within a moment. Hand in hand amidst the storm

**Prompt:** Emotion Based: Paralyzing fear

  
[Right before the Archdemon battle]  
  
  
With one trembling hand gripping the pommel of her sword and the other mindlessly thumbing the guard, Laerke steadied herself with a long, deep breath. The world refused to stand still alongside her, and finding patience to continue subjecting herself to yet another squabble between those dearest to her was proving near impossible. She let the noise fade into obscurity, drowned out by the blood pumping in her ears and the heavy thudding of her heart. They paid no mind to the fretful warden who chewed her cheek as cold dread danced a waltz along her spine and communicated with her growing trepidation.

She couldn’t move. Her legs ignored her voiceless appeal.

Everything previous to this - as she re-lived an eternity within a single moment - was converging here at the threshold of uncertainty. What lay beyond the door for them would determine their future regardless of the outcome. Whether she walked away hand in hand with the man she pledged her heart to, or one was left in cruel grief amidst the storm of celebrations. 

Morrigan is right. 

Morrigan  _ has _ to be right.

Frayed nerves and a choking stone forming in her throat had the warrior rocking on her toes to soothe her demons back to sleep, to chase away the fear and twisted images of a fate that wasn’t any longer hers, that wasn’t Alistair’s. 

Memories - they were recollections, distant and crystal clear. Still too real and fresh in her mind.

_ A stifling silence and haunting stillness had claimed the halls of Highever in direct opposition to the cries of battle just beyond the walls. She remembered their faces, many frozen in abject terror, eyes closed forever. _

What if Morrigan is wrong?

“You can do this -  _ we _ can do this.” His voice was the steadying force she required, the one that gave stability to her shaking knees and solidified her quaking core. “I love you.”    
  
She exhaled.    
  
This was the end. Whatever the outcome.


	4. Awakenings - Skinny Blonde Troublemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A one-shot in which Warden-Commander Cousland meets the first of her newest rag-tag family.

The residual firelight radiating off the newly charred darkspawn corpse flickered until it died out. Her companions were silent as they too watched the mage - the robes alone were enough of an indicator - shake his hands long after the Hurlock had toppled. 

Mhairi beside her gasped once the intruder finally became aware that he had company as he turned his attention on them. Laerke observed her recruit from the corner of her eye, watching her almost shirk away from the ‘gaze of the dangerous apostate’. She was withholding judgment, reminded fondly of the companions she exchanged her goodbyes with after the battle against the Archdemon. Magic was still such an enigma to her, but perhaps the mysterious nature of the Arcane was what enamored her.   
  
“Err, I didn’t do it?” the man finally retorted to their lack of words, already jumping to his own defense as if so used to dodging blame for things whether earned or not. 

“You didn’t do it?” She found her voice after a moment of pondering and glancing back and forth between the various corpses - more than a few Blighted but a few humans were just visible among the rest. Truly she wouldn’t have even batted an eye until a closer inspection revealed the familiar Templar Regalia. Was he denying his involvement of whatever fate befell the templars or the darkspawn?

Still, Laerke watched him curiously as he brushed his hands over his decadent robes and smoothed back strays of sunny blonde hair. From the golden earring looped through one ear to the ponytail and exceptionally gaudy vestments to his pretty face - everything about him screamed  _ trouble _ . And it wasn’t as if she weren’t already familiar with that kind of trouble _. _

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I’m hardly broken up about them dying, but I had nothing to do with it. Not personally.”

Her mouth twitched with the threat of a grin, or at least a small one while he professed his innocence. She believed him, strangely enough, but it was his loose tongue and devil-may-care attitude that caught her off-guard. After all, her experience with mages had been severely limited to the two who had spent many days traveling beside her to stop the blight - Wynne and Morrigan - and then what few she had met during her visit to the Circle at Kinloch Hold.

Yet, he matched none of those.    
  
Clearing her throat, Laerke resumed some semblance of command and forced as much confidence into her words as she could muster, especially when all she wanted to do was laugh at the absurdity of the situation she now found herself in. “I see. What about the darkspawn then? Was that you?” 

The way his eyes lingered just a little too long on both her recruit and herself made Laerke shift awkwardly on her feet but nothing was said of it. Not yet. “Sure, well-” he nodded his head at the templar corpses, “they helped. A little. Before they tragically died.” His voice was wistful but sarcastically so. 

She should have been more concerned, should have spent more time picking apart his words and his excuse, if only for the fact that there were dead templars on the floor of the keep -  _ her _ keep. She was Warden-Commander and Queen of Ferelden, to turn a blind eye to something like this would look poorly no doubt but-

She could not seem to find the emotion to care, only the offering of sigh and roll of her eyes. 

Laerke straightened her back as he approached, trying to meet his stature though he nearly dwarfed her even still. “Well, I’m assuming those men were here for you then, yes?” 

There was nothing sheepish about the blonde mage as he smiled at her, but there was a mischievous quality to him, “Indeed they were. We had been on our way back - to the tower - and stopped for a short rest. Then the darkspawn attacked, and well, the rest you know.”

“Do I now?” She asked, letting her eyes sweep his lanky form. Tall, wiry, slim with a swimmer’s body yet his bare forearms revealed trim muscle beneath fair skin, much as it had with Morrigan. To wield a staff in combat took strength, precision, and stamina. “So,” she started again, tentatively but this time with more curiosity in her voice. “On your way  _ back _ to the tower, implying-”

“That I escaped? Yes, well, long story. I believe this was attempt number seven. Or was it my eighth? It’s becoming harder to keep track. But I won’t bore you with the details and I will just be on my way.” He bowed with a flourish, not even meaning to be mocking but unintentionally doing so. 

Trouble. Yes, she was already considering taking him along. She needed all hands on deck to finish off the lingering spawn leftover from the Blight after all. That was her reasoning. Was she crazy to immediately pin him as a useful ally? Perhaps, but who better to help than the random strays she collected on her travels - she had learned as much during her tenure as a Grey Warden. Allies came in many forms. 

_ Most unexpected _ \- was Morrigan’s voice in her thoughts. 

“Wait,” her command gave him pause and the mage actually stopped halfway through his attempt to slink away sight unseen. A flicker of fear reflected in his face but it didn't linger for more than a second before it was replaced by an amorous smile, as if he was trying to seem nonplussed. “We could certainly use the extra help.” She hadn’t meant to let her eagerness get the better of her and find its way into her voice, but the slightest hesitation in the blonde mage’s demeanor prompted a knee-jerk reaction. Which meant that the next words out of her mouth: “Help us and I’ll keep the Templars off your trail. Or tell them you died. I’m not sure- I’ll think of something-” made Mhairi gape at her in astonishment. 

The young recruit was aghast, though her voice was unsure when she spoke up. “Commander, are you sure that is wise?”

“Yes,  _ commander _ , are you  _ sure _ ?” The cheeky yet sultry drawl in the mage’s voice brought a warmth to her face. 

Laerke frowned, brows furrowing as she pushed it and her sudden fluster down. Maker help her. It would not do to let herself be caught off-guard by overconfident men like him, not that she could ever stray from Alistair… “The choice is yours. You can come with us or find your way out on your own. I will not stop you though if you were worried about that.”

He made a face best described as dubious and while he processed her offer, Laerke could practically see the gears in his head turning over as he weighed his various options. Though he would be foolish to decline, she would stand by her word and let him go without incident if he should choose his freedom.

“Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,” was his response finally, after much deliberation. With a forward hand and a beguiling smile, he closed the remaining distance between them. “You may call me Anders, my dear lady.”


End file.
